Sarah watched the clock. The second hand crept around the face like each tick might be the last one. Meanwhile, Mrs Thomas droned on. That’s not fair. Usually she loved her class with ‘Mrs Thomas the Science Goddess’, but today was different. Today there should be a letter from Randy. No…will be a letter. There had to be. He’d been gone…the clock clicked 2:59…four-weeks-one-day-fourteen-hours-and fifty-nine-minutes. There had to be.
‘Sarah, dear, are you going to spend the night?’
Her teacher’s voice made her blink. 3:02? Nonono. She couldn’t miss the bus. She yanked her backpack off the desk and dashed to the door. ‘Sorry, gotta run.’
Mrs Thomas’ chuckle barely registered as she raced into the hall, dodging bodies. Especially Brian’s.
‘Hey, Sarah, you’re lookin’ good.’
She didn’t break stride, slipping by the blond quarterback. Like hanging your letterman jacket over one shoulder would make her all breathless. Boys. All of them were just boys, but not Randy.
One day after school a couple of months ago, her mom showed up with one of her friends, Jennifer. Their Chevy Citation was in the shop, and Jennifer was their ride. She’d piled into the back of the light pink Cadillac, trying not to let her friends see her, and endured the trip to the mechanic. Once there, she scuffed along behind Mom, only wanting to get home. Mom stalked into the shop, ready to go toe to toe with the owner because she was sure the bill was too high, or so she’d told Jennifer. But when the two men walked in from the work bay, both she and Mom had come to a standstill. The next three minutes became permanently engraved on her memory.
‘Randy’ his name patch proclaimed. She’d read the word randy in some British Literature but for the first time in her life, she understood what it meant. The only other time she’d felt that way was when that new actor, Tom Cruise, danced around in his underwear in Risky Business. Everything on her tingled, her heart started tap dancing, and her feet forgot how to take another step.
Randy’s black wavy hair framed a strong face that belonged in GQ magazine. Dark eyes, sleepy eyes that hadn’t even noticed her yet, reviewed some kind of paper he held. Talk about a lucky paper. Strong muscular arms, with just the right touches of grease from working on cars, extended from the dark blue mechanic’s uniform he wore.
‘Wow,’ Mom whispered next to her.
She’d snapped her eyes over, only to realize that mom was looking at an older version of Randy. Talk about embarrassing, her own mom checking some guy out. But she couldn’t blame Mom too much. The man was obviously Randy’s dad. Wow was right, most old guys were gross, but if that was what Randy would look like, it was fine by her.
Her mom’s body had gone all soft curves and swishy walking as she’d sauntered to the counter. Gag. She’d tuned out anything Mom said because Randy had gone to the Coke machine and bent over to retrieve a soda. Then, he’d turned, smiled, and changed her world with one phrase: ‘You want one?’
The bus doors were closing as she reached them, but at least she didn’t have to bang on them. The only seat left was next to some oily freshman who looked like he still belonged in seventh grade. Of course. Think good thoughts, Sarah. Breathe like the yoga instructor taught, minus the big exhale. That would really cap it. Panting heavily next to the four-foot tall wonder-boy. She stifled a giggle, and the kid darted a glance at her, then averted his eyes. Her heart warmed a little. Poor guy, probably never even been kissed.
She looked at her watch and huffed. Could the bus go any slower? The kids around her jabbered and laughed, but to her it felt like some kind of banana yellow torture chamber. Finally it creaked to a halt at the corner. She’d moved to the front seat at the last stop and slipped out. Her run/walk to the house left her breathless, but really she’d been that way before hitting the sidewalk. Cool, Mom and Dad weren’t home. She flipped open the mailbox and stood there, hand trembling in front of it. One letter, in a light blue envelope, sat inside the black metal arch. She could read the return address clearly:
Seaman Recruit: R. Wilson
Company 72
Naval Training Center
San Diego, Ca. 92106
She wanted to snatch it from the mailbox, but her mind screamed possibilities at her. ‘He’s met someone else.’ ‘You were just a plaything.’ ‘He doesn’t really love you, you’re just a stupid girl.’
‘No,’ she breathed the word like a soft prayer. ‘No…’
It took a third repetition to force her arm to obey. She slid the envelope into her hand like it might explode, then closed the mailbox.
In her room she carefully cut the end open, and the paper fell into her lap. She picked it up, trembling, so that she could barely make out the words she read:
Sarah,
I can’t believe I’ve been gone for nearly two weeks. In some ways it feels like an eternity. They wake us up in the dark, banging on trashcans, to go for morning exercises. We get about five minutes to eat, and it’s a good thing I love doing push-ups. But it doesn’t matter what I’m doing, or where I am, my thoughts always…only go to one place. The one where I see your face, hear your voice and feel your hand in mine.
This time has made one thing perfectly clear to me. I can’t I don’t want to live without you by my side. The sooner we figure out how to make that happen, the better life will be. Graduation is on the 21st and it’d be so cool if you were there. I know that might be tough, with your parents and all, but it sure would be awesome.
I hope you feel the same way I do, but if you don’t… Man, I don’t even know what to write now. Sorry about the mess on the paper.
I love you,
Randy.
Blotchy splashes smeared the blue ink in a few places. Her own tears added a few more. She would tell him exactly how she felt. In person.